


Incendiary

by Reality_aborted



Series: if these walls [5]
Category: Hatfilms, The Yogscast
Genre: Arguing, Drowning, Fire, Guilt, M/M, Multi, Murder, Urban Magic Yogs, Violence, Water, fake suicide, umy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:48:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8281528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reality_aborted/pseuds/Reality_aborted
Summary: 'Right or wrong, its very pleasant to break something from time to time'-DostoyevskyWhen Ross has to break away from ideals he held for so long the fragile equilibrium of the court is thrown in turmoil.





	

Smith picked at the peeling Formica in agitation. He ran his thumb under the rounded edge of the plastic pushing it apart; intermittently huffing and glancing out of the window at the early summer evening. On the old, stained table a long forgotten coffee sat cooling.  
“It shouldn’t have taken this long.” He muttered half to himself.  
The clatter of cups and spoons from the next table over.  
“It’ll lake as long as it has too Smith.” Trott replied calmly sipping his tea, before placing it back on the sticky dinner table, never looking up from his book.  
Smith mumbled something rude under his breath yanking at the loosened plastic only to have his hands slapped like a misbehaving child.  
“Pack that in. As much as you want it too, destroying other people's property isn’t going to help.”  
Smith huffed petulantly and finally looked up at Trott, trying to catch his eye over that insufferable book.  
“How are you so fucking relaxed? Ross could be-”  
“I’m not ‘relaxed’.” Trott interrupted, thumping his book, allowing a small amount of irritation to slip into his voice “Far from it to be honest. With every passing minute I imagine another 20 ways thing could have gone wrong. But, at the moment we can’t do anything about it. So shut up. Sit properly. and drink your coffee. You're an adult, behave like one”  
Trott’s eyes met Smith’s, daring him to protest in some way.  
Smith lifted his drink to his lips not noticing the ring the cup had left on the table and took a sip.  
“It’s cold”  
“Then get another”  
They held each other's gaze for several long heartbeats.  
The door swung open, then shut.

It wasn’t Ross

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

Sips held his breath and sunk under the water for a moment, briefly enjoying the muffled sounds of the world around him. Normally, it would be the various noises of the apartment that faded away. Smith and Trott arguing over something in the living room, voices raised but no real venom in the words, Ross clattering about in the kitchen, the chatter of the television, or some old record from Trott and Smith’s collection drifting through the flat. Today the flat was uncharacteristically empty. Instead the usual noise was replaced with the sounds of traffic. The scratching vocals of the tape Sips had left playing in the other room serving as ambient noise. The water lapped around his ears intermittently softening the roar of the world. He idly wondered if what he heard and what the water fae heard while under water was the same. He wondered what it must be like to live underwater, to breath water. And how strange and alien it must be to leave all that behind, and live a life so different from the one you knew. He could feel the water around the edges of his eyes, threatening to rush over his face with every blink. He wouldn’t ask them what it was like. Sips never was one to pry, someone's business was their own, everyone had their own shadows following them. But sometimes he wondered about the shadows of the people he loved. 

He wondered what really made Trott leave the ocean so completely. Why he would occasionally see a sadness drift past behind his eyes, a slight strain in his smile. Why would Sips occasionally come home to find the usually strong Fae curled in Smiths arms as he quietly sung soft, soothing songs to the other in a strange language Sips had no hope of understanding.  
Why Smith was seemingly happy to leave the Moors and his roaming lifestyle behind him in favour of a polluted city. To live in a pokey flat with a human and two other fae. What secrets hid behind the darkness that sometimes surrounded him when they had to drag him away from violence and death and pain. Why did tears cling to his eyelashes and refuse to fall when he came back to himself?  
And why Ross a creature crafted and brought to life with a sole purpose to protect his church, was able to just stand and watch as it burnt to the ground around him. Why now? Why after some many years of watching the walls fall and glass smash without moving was he able to leave it all on the promise of a wild Kelpie?

It was strange. 

The thin strings that held the court together. A million different ‘what ifs’ could have changed everything.  
Sips sank a little further into the bath, the water warm a slightly soapy on his lips. One thought lingering precariously at the edge of his mind.  
_I would probably be dead by now_

\--------------------------------------------

 

Trott ran his fingers through the soft curls of Smith’s hair. A little while ago he had moved from the opposite side of the booth having finishing most of his new drink. The sun was starting to set and the world was slowly turning orange. At some point Smith had curled up against Trott, resting his head on the others shoulder. A whispered apology ghosted past Smith’s lips, the words muffled against Trott's neck. He had instantly shushed him telling him that he understood, he was just concerned. Trott had sighed and moved his arm to allow Smith to settle against him comfortably. His irritation at the kelpie had long dissipated.  
Smith had shifted against him, unruly hair tickling Trott's chin.  
“It’s going to be okay isn’t it?"There had been the slightest tightening of Smiths fingers where they held onto Trott's shirt. "He’s going to be okay?” Smith had murmured.  
“Of course he is sunshine”  
Smith had gone quiet after that and Trott didn’t know if he had fallen asleep or was just wrapped up in his own thought.  
In truth Trott didn’t know if it was all going to be fine, but it was easy to pretend that it would be. 

He watched as a group of teens walked down the quiet street, laughing at one another and carelessly chatting. One of them checked their watch and ran off in the other direction, waving goodbye as he ran. The street lights began to preemptively switch on.

Ross was out there somewhere.

And the world felt unsettled.

\------------------

 

 _I think I’m disintegrating_  
Ross ran cold fingertips over the crumbling concrete, bare feet hanging over the edge of the building he was sitting on. Crumbs of stone come off the building and drifted to the ground far below.  
_No… I’m eroding_  
That was what Trott had called it that time they had all gone to the beach. He had looked it up properly in the dictionary when they had got home that evening. The concept had made sense. It was a process he, unlike many, had actually seen take place in front of his eyes. Slowly watching the faces on the other gargoyles and grotesques fade away other the years. It was a peculiar sadness seeing the faces of his would be brothers disappear, despite the fact they had never even blinked at the sun with their long worn away eyelids. Nonetheless, it was still strange to be so familiar with something, yet to not be able to put a name to it, not even knowing there was a word for it. He was thankful for the knowledge, even if the word was forever associated with a sense of intangible loss.  
Like Hiraeth, Smith had taught him that one. Apparently it was a Welsh word meaning a homesickness for a home that could never be returned to or never even was in the first place. It was such a sad word, filled with a delicate longing. He understood the feeling. They all did. Ross knew it. He hadn’t known the word, but he knew what it looked like written in facial expressions and half started sentences.  
He knew he should return to them, to his court, his new family. It had been the four of them for a year now, it had been the three of them for five years. But to Ross, who had seen so many years drift by, a handful of years was a blink of the eye.  
Ross looked down at the ground far below him, no one had found the body yet. It had stopped twitching long ago and was now slowly going cold in the long shadow of the building. The world was so quiet this evening. But someone would find the body eventually. Someone would scream. Someone would cry. Sirens would howl. The cleaners would come. And then there would be silence again.  
He should really go.  
It had to be done.  
He did it for the court.  
For the ones he loved.  
Who loved him.  
So why couldn’t he leave.  
Why did the thought of their faces make his throat constrict.

Why did he feel so wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> so i'm back, and my love for the urban magic universe has not wavered :)  
> this is going to be a multi chapter story that i to aim to update every other week, hopefully. They aren't long chapters so it shouldn't be too bad  
> the format is a bit fragmented at the moment, but, it wont always remain so, this chapter was mainly set up  
> also i apologise for any errors, i'm an impatient and somewhat busy person. So, when i finally got a chance to post the first chapter i just did it, instead of going through the proper process of beta readers and what not.  
> Hope its not too slow, the tags are just a hint at what is to come, so things won't always be so calm
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr: reality-aborted I may be a bit shy but i'm nice i promise, also i wouldn't mind some little prompts as practice.


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